


Echo

by khelgui



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3238796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khelgui/pseuds/khelgui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an old one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

The sweat on my body makes me get up, rub my eyes and explore the intertwined white sheets around our bodies. After a moment I gaze to take note of all that I see. I'm trying to get myself to forget to put on my clothes and disappear – but I can't do it.

I’m startled by your every move, but I can't get my eyes off of you.

I watch at your sleepy, heavy breathing and your ribs billowing at a steady pace along with it when I sit on the very edge of the bed.

On the floor is laying an emerald green wine bottle, which has been drunk dry. The yellowish-white label reminds me of the sweet taste of your thin lips. Those lips I tasted seven and a half hours ago…

A light touch...

You sigh in your sleep. I get up off the bed to stand and stare at the dirty mirrored wardrobe door. Dark circles under my carbon brown eyes.

Bloody thin marks on the chest. I knew already that you wouldn’t let me forget – but I wouldn’t even have wanted to.

”...you.”

I touch my face remembering your soft fingertips. It tickles.

My burgundy red hair framing my face which without any makeup and because of the effects of the alcohol yesterday appears like I’m sick.

As if I had been suffering from insomnia for a long time.

I attire my slim body with your gray, loose t-shirt and string the steel gray cross-necklace inside the shirt.

Inside my head the same song is playing again; similar to yesterday, the night and the morning, the previous week and the eleventh of January, as well as the sound and touch of your naked body under me.

I would like to understand.

But I really don’t.

”I don’t know anything. I don’t get it, I don’t get it", you keep saying.

"What do you don’t understand?”

”This.”

I look at you from the windowsill, green Marlboro tobacco between my plump, bitten lips. The smoke rises towards the ceiling and I know very well you don’t like how the smell gets stuck in your apartment.

I sweep the burgundy hair off of my brow and tilt my head leaning against my hand.

I didn’t expect anything like this. I wasn’t expecting anything.

Donghae. You looked at me once, and I became to like it. I changed. I’m no longer the one person I was last week or even yesterday.

I'm smoking, having a hangover and I admire the half-naked body of yours under the duvet cover without a quiver.

You’re weird.

Dry lips tastes like wine, alcohol, my tobacco and the cheapest fruit candies of the grocery store. Yet I can't get enough of them. Even though I can’t stand those candies that you always buy for yourself.

My hand caresses your side and I stare at your innocent face. You maybe aren’t that 26-year-old man which other men in general would see as beautiful. But I think you're the most beautiful thing I know.

I straighten my body and turn my back at you.

The memories of the night are chasing me. I would like you to hear my thoughts, to wake up to my existence. I would like to run, so you could catch me. I want to escape. To run to the Banpo Bridge (which is located 1.7 kilometers from here), to get on the railing and feel the cold wind causing shivers on my skin.

I would like to drown under the water and rise to the surface again gasping for the icy air. I need a wake up.

But you’re asleep and I don’t want to wake you up.

“H-hyuk…”

My belt bumps against the hardwood floor when it falls from the bed. I can hear your heavy breathing and I can make you do it several times again.

"Well?”

”You ask me to produce something serious right now...?”

Although the winter sun is shining at the apartment, the hallway is dim. Streak of the sun appears on the floor and the door while the dust spots lingers on the air.

I pick up my lighter from the top of your dresser and put it inside my pocket. Before I go, I leave a piece of paper with my phone number hastily-written on it on a rectangular mirror on the wall. Already a hoodie on me I’m starting to leave, but I hang back and stare stupidly to the living room which has a door to you.

Stubbing out a tobacco on a park bench, my fingers are freezing cold and shaking.

I can’t eat, sleep or stand to be on my spot. I wander endlessly from place to place, trying to escape the thoughts that reminds and accuses me of you. I imagine you to walk on the streets among the other people. I can see a glimpse of a dark brown mop of hair and your denim hoodie jacket.

I would have to run to catch you, but I realize that I'm just imagining. I have never actually seen your face in my imagination, when I know the reality is much better.

My tobacco drips between the grilles of the sewer below. The alcohol thunders in the back of my head. I could have made millions of mistakes and correct them, but I made one of a kind I can't erase. I remember our torturing kisses.

I can hear a dog barking every time I exit my apartment – the dog which lives above your apartment. The hollow barking freezes my brain and melts my thoughts to jelly.

Why I can't get rid of your ghost?

”I’m going to be your best nightmare.”

I wear the only black t-shirt found in the closet and get my also black leatherette jacket on me in a hurry.

I have no idea where I'm going. I walk in the pouring rain, in the cold North wind which blows over the Banpo Bridge. I smoke two cigarettes right in the middle of it and I move on.

My cell phone has three unanswered text messages and eight calls. Then a cab hits past me, throwing a huge slush of icy water upon me. I finally wake up.

I find myself, in you, at your doorstep, ringing the bell. You come to open it and you wipe the corners of your sleepy eyes.

I’m like a drowned rat and the water pond under my shoes is just getting bigger and bigger.

“Hae, I—“

”Come in you idiot," you cling to the wet collar of my and shut the door behind us.

The stairwell echoes as the dog from the upstairs is still barking.


End file.
